p- I > " WHAT, MODEST MARTHA, I'M ASHAMED OP YOU!" TALES OF LONDON LIFE. MRS. LORIMER SPINKS; OR, THE MARRIED LADY THAT WAS A LITTLE TOO GAY. LEAVING tho Slasher and the boy, Captain Flash, in the Painted Closet, to pursue their search for the secret passage, we will re- turn to Mrs. Spinks; who, accompanied by Varden and Mrs. Dobson, proceeded to the Walnut- tree Chamber. As they passed through the numerous winding passages and suites of rooms of which the old Hall consisted, Mrs. Spinks could not refrain from expressing her surprise at the vast extent of the building. " This room you are takiDg me to, appears to be at a great dis- tance from the regularly- inhabited portion of the house," said Mrs. Spinks. The answer of the old woman was interrupted by the sound of a heavy body falling at a distant part of the building. It was the plank by which the Slasher and the boy had entered the Painted Closet. " Good heavens,'' exclaimed Mrs. Dobson, " whatever can be that noiso; it's like as if some part of the building had fallen and, indeed, that's no more thaii I expect one of these days. It came from the other side of the house which we have just left; and ycu know there's not a soul there." Varden, who little suspected the cause, succeeded in quieting the old female's fears, by telling her it was nrobably the watchman eome on his duty. " Are we far from the Walnut- tree Chamber ?" inquired Mrs. Spinks, anxiously; " I don't like these long, desolate passages. This must have been an awful lonely place for my poor mother." " Oh, dear no," replied the old woman; " it was not at all lonely in your mother's time; it was a very comfortable room, because then there were two rooms, and a long passage, since bricked- up, which communicated with a gallery that brought you to the great staircase. The house has, however, been very much altered since that time. I have heard, that at one period there was a passage in the main wall that went round the whole of the house." " Indeed," said Varden; " you must show me this place. I sup- pose it still exists." I should say not, if it ever existed; for you only hear of such kind of places in old story- books," was the answer. " I have gone through these rooms thousands of times when I first came here, but I never could find any thing of the kind, though cer- tainly these walls are thick enough. Sarah has got here before continued the old woman, turning a corner suddenly, and showing them the interior of a large room, the door of which stood open. " This is the Walnut Chamber," she added; " and in that little room is the first bedstead upon which your mother ever slept." Mrs. Spinks looked anxiously around the apartment in which she was to pass the night; but the darkness of the room was in- creased by the volumes of smoke that now rushed from the chim- ney, as Sarah endeavoured to kindle a fire, and added considerably to the uncomfortable appearance of the chamber. Mrs. Dobssu noticed the manner of Mrs. Spinks, and quickly observed, " I thought you wouldn't like the place for a sleeping- room, it's damp and miserable. Look at the dust up « n these hangings, and no wonder, for I don't think this place has been opened these eight or nine years. Come, madam, let me persuade you not to sleep here to- night, and also to put off your examination of this part of the Hall till daylight." " I'm sure I don't know what's come to the place to- night," said Sarah, suddenly interrupting; " if the lady's wise, she won't sleep ia this room, at any rate." " What do you mean?" inquired Mrs. Spinks, anxiously; " has there been any thing different here to- night?" " Did thee hear the crash a little while ago," said the girl, with terror in her countenance, " that sounded as though all the rooms near the Painted Closet had fallen in?" " We heard the noise," said Varden. " And is that all that has occurred to frighten you?" he added, sneeringly, " or a reason suf- ficient to prevent the mistress of this establishment sleeping in any apartment she may think proper to select ?" " But that bean't all," replied Sarah. " I just went to this window to see where the noise was from, and as sure as I'm living, I heard a most dreadful groan, as if some one were killed." " Well, and who was it ?" inquired Varden. " How should I know?" replied Sarah. " What, did you not go and see!" said Varden. " Go and see!— Heaven help me, not I. It might have been some one murdered," continued the young woman. " You may laugh as much as yon like, but you said I was wrong when I told you I saw some one in the stable on the night of the robbery." " But you have seen no one now, Sally," said Mrs. Dobson. " Haven't I, though. I fancied two or three times whilst I was getting the tea ready that there was some one on this roof; and once I could almost swear I saw a man's head.'' " Why did not you mention tjjjs before r said Mrs. SjwdUj. No. 25.] Parts I., II-, and III. are now ready. Each Part will be ser. t. direct, oil rer. eipt of 18 Postage Stamps. [ PRICE ONE PENNY. For remote parts. Single < opics may be sent direct from the Office, for Two Postage Stamps. 78 THE TOWN. quickly; " there may be some truth in the girl's statement." " Ridiculous1" said Varden ; " I am surprised, Mrs. Spinks, at your heeding such nonsense. X shall expect, shortly, to hear you say that you. will not sleep in this room." " X have already expressed a wish to sleep here," replied Mrs. Spinks; " and I am not in the habit of so suddenly changing my mind. I shall sleep here to- night; so be as quick as you possibly can, Mrs. Dobson, for I am anxious to go to bed as soon as pos- sible." The reply of Mrs. Dobson was interrupted by a loud ringing of the ball bell, followed by the sound of numerous voices from without. " Who can this be?" exclaimed Mrs. Spinks, with alarm, " and at this hour. Hark! there are groans, as if some one were in pain." " Open the window, Sarah." said Mrs. Dobson; " you can see into the garden, and the voices come from that direction." " Let me look," said Vartlen, pushing the girl aside, and open- ing the window. " D— n!" he exclaimed; " what the devil can be the matter 1 There are at least a dozen persons in the garden and I can just see that they are surrounding a person who appears to be hurt." • The voices were now heard calling for lights and help, succeeded ' by the sound of footsteps in the passage, and almost immediately young Dobsou rushed into the room; he started back for - moment upon seeing strangers, but at. length exclaimed— " Mother, mother, what do you do here; didn't you hear me call for assistance ? Father and me were crossing the garden, intending to come in by the back way and surprise you, and a plank fell from the lious* e- top, and knocked father senseless. We onlv left London at ten o'clock this morning— and there'll be everybody here in the morning— to think such an accident should occur just at this moment." The old woman heard no more, but rushed out of the apart- ment, followed by Sarah and young Dobson, leaving Mrs. Spinks alone with Varden. " Poor old woman," said Mrs. Spinks ; " I hope he is not much hurt." " Hurt, be d ," exclaimed Varden with singular earnestness, " I hope he'll never speak again, the old thief, that's all the harm I wish him. What does he do here now ? by Heavens, he will ruin everything." " What do you mean ?" enquired Mrs. Spinks. " How can his presence to- night affect our plans ?" " Affect them!" replied Vardeu; " by Heavens, if we are not amazingly quick in our movements, his presence will ruin every- thing. Does he not know me as well as you do ? is he not but just come from London, and learned every circumstance connected with the quarrel with your brother and his lawyer, both of whom are to be here in the morning? I must lose no time in returning to the painted closet and at once secure the papers which are se- creted in the panel covered by the portrait of your mother. Should Mr. Dobson come and any enquiry be made for me, say that I shall return directly. The papers once in our possession, we must depart immediately, for under no circumstances must I at present be seen by any one acquainted with the secrets of the Rodwell familv, or friendly to your brother." Varden immediately left the room, leaving Mrs. Spinks to the solitude of her thoughts, and giving her an opportunity of ex- amining the apartment in which she purposed passing the night. It was a large, commodious chamber, the panellings of which were most elaborately carved, representing scripture subjects ; in an angle of the room was a small door communicating with a petite chamber in which was a bed, being tbe room alluded to by Mrs. Dobson. The deep window which faced the do » r was covered with thick hangings, heavy and rotten with the dust of years. The furniture, which appeared not to have been disturbed since the last inhabitant left it, was good and substantial, such as was to be found in the private room of a young lady of the last century. And the apartment, taken generally, was deserving of Mrs. Dob- son's observation, viz., being a very comfortable room. There was however, one article in the place which particularly took the at- tention of Mrs. Spinks, viz., a large safe or cupboard, apparently constructed of black mahogany, which reached nearly to the ceiling. From the moment that she entered she had regarded this piece of furniture with astonishment. With a woman's curiosity she now endeavoured to open the safe, but to her vexation dis- covered that it was firmly secured upon the inside. " It is, indeed, very lonely here," she muttered, throwing herself into a chair. " I hope Varden will secure those papers, for 1 am determined not to sleep in this room." For some time she sat musing upon the strange events which had occurred to her ; rising from her seat, she threw aside the window curtains and attempted to look at objects without. All, however, was nearly dark, for as yet the moon had not risen. Some portions of the opposite wing of the hall were, however, visible. She continued to gaze fora few moments upon the darkness before her, when suddenly one of the rooms became radiant with light, the apartment being one blaze of flame, and she saw plainly two figures in the room. Her im- mediate impression was that the Hall was on fire, but in quicker time than we can write, the light was extinguished, and all was as dark as before. " Good G— d!" she exclaimed, straining her sight in her attempt, if possible, to pierce the darkness, " surely I am awake; this is no fancy— yet, from whence could that light proceed, and who were those persons that I saw in the room ? This suspense is horrible; where can Varden stay ? I will wait no longer," she continued; and rushing to the door, to her astonishment, found it was locked upon the outside. She had no time to reflect as to the cause of this, or even to attempt to call for assistance, as another incident immediately occurred, which completely deprived her of utter- ance. Whilst standing at the door, the carved work upon the panels, one by one, became violently agitated, and she heard a low, grating noise, as if there was some object behind them anxious to make its way through, This was followed by the whispering of voices; and then she heard distinctly the words, " Ail right— here it is," come from within the panelling. The thought of the passage in the wall, mentioned to her both by Varden and Mrs. Dobson, now flashed across her mind, and she immediately conjectured that some improper characters had discovered the secret, and were there for the purpose of plunder. 1 Her suspicions were almost immediately confirmed; for scarce time was permitted her to secrete herself behind the window curtains, ere the doors of the safe were burst open with a violent shock, disclosing a chasm in the wall sufficiently deep to permit of the entrance of the Slasher and the boy, who, black with dust and dirt, carrying a number of papers and a lanthorn, jumped into the room. " By heavens!" exclaimed the Slasher, looking round him, " its the Walnut Tree Chamber we've got into— all right now, my boy, for I know where I am ; but how is this ? a light and a fire m this room, I thought it was uninhabited?" The Slasher and the boy continued to converse for a few mir; ates, and, almost paralysed with astonishment, she learned that the elder ruffian had torn down the picture of her mother, discovered in the frame the will of her grandfather, the certificate of her mother's marriage, and other valuable papers. That de^ airing of finding the private passage, the Slasher had set fire to the portraits, and by this means discovered the secret panel. " How the old pictures flared- up in a minute," said the boy, laughing, " it was lucky I doused them out as I did, or we should have had the crib burning about our ears in a few minutes." " I hope you did put it out," answered the Slasher, " for I should not like to burn down the old Hall; and if any of the sparks should have happened 1o have got in the hangings, the place will burn like tinder." " Holloa!" exclaimed the boy, " here's another pretty go; this door Is'fastened, too." " No nia.< ter," answered the Slasher, " that is easily forced. I cure j,.: noilii'ng now, for I know this house as well as you do St. Giles's. Varder. is defeated— the villain, would that I could meet him, and revenge the death of my mother." The last part of the sentence, which was uttered to himself, had scarcely escaped him, when the door was suddenly opened, and the object of his solicitude rushed into the apartment. Varden, it should be explained, had proceeded, as he told Mrs. Spinks he intended, to the painted closet, but upon endeavouring to gain admittance was driven back with thick clouds of smoke. In vain he strove to enter the room, and obtain the documents in tbe secret panel. Full of the. impressions that a portion of the Hall was on fire, the effect of accident, he had hurried back to Mrs. Spinks to inform her of his discovery, and help her to escape. For a moment, Varden recoiled upon beholding the figure of the Slasher and his companion— a single glance was sufficient for Varden to comprehend the whole business. " Villain!" he shouted, " it is you who have fired the hall, and stolen the papers." " Wretch!" replied the Slasher, darting upon him, " and do you dare to face, and even question me? Murderer of my mother, this time, at least, you shull not escape me." A struggle of a few moments ensued, but Varden was no match for the active housebreaker, and lie was hurled with violence to the ground. " Miscreant," exclaimed the Slasher, standing over Varden, who, stunned with the fall, lay senseless on the ground, " you thought to have escaped my vengeance— thought you had wrung the secret from my dying mother. I was, however, upon your track, and, thanks to this boy, traced you here." " Nammus," shouted the boy, " cut, or we shall all be nailed. There's people in the passage; what's that? they're calling fire.' Footsteps were now heard in the different apartments, accom- panied with the noise of the rapid opening and shutting of doors, At the same time the whole of the opposite wing of the Hall was bright in the red glare of a conflagration. " By Heavens,'' ejaculated the Slasher, in his alarm for the moment relieving his hold of Varden, " the Hall is in flames." The pause was fatal to the Slasher, for instantly the appa- rently senseless Varden sprang to his feet and presented a pistol in the face of his assailant. " Fool," laughed Varden, " it is my time now." The boy, however, sprang upon Varden with a view of wresting the pistol from him; and the Slasher was about to follow up the attempt by raising his arm to stab his enemy— ere, however, he let it fall, Varden fired, the whole of the charge entered his head, and in an instant the pannelling of the Walnut Tree Chamber were red with the blood and brains of the burglar. A long piercing shriek, followed by a loud frenzied laugh, instantly drew the attention of Varden to the window, the hangings of which being drawn aside, disclosed the figure of Mrs. Spinks, who with folded arms stood regarding the scene, her whole frame shaking with hysterical laughter, and her eye flashing with the wild light of the maniac. " Mrs. Spinks," exclaimed Varden, rushing towards her, " what is the meaning—" He appeared, however, almost imme- diately to understand the cause of her singular appearance, for recoiling from her with something of horror in her manner, he ejaculated, " Good God, the events of to- night have turned her reason— she is mad." Further observation was prevented by the noise from without, the shouts of " fire, fire," proclaiming that the flames were fast gaining tho mastery; at the same time, persons were heard ap- proaching the room. " If I am found here," said Varden, " it will be fatal to me; boy,'' he continued, hurriedly addressing Captain Flash, who for the last few seconds had been wildly regarding the lifeless body of the Slasher, and endeavouring to raise it from the ground, " boy, attend to this body, and I will permit you to depart. You know your way, no doubt; for some time, at least, this wing will be safe from flames." " You don't go so easy," shouted the boy, springing upon Varden, and inflicting a deep wound upon his shoulder with the Slasher's knife. " Help, help, murder, murder"— " Curse your infernal tongue," exclaimed Varden, " I shall be discovered; take that, you d d brat, for your impudence," and dealing him a blow which felled him to the ground, he gathered up the various papers dropped by the Slasher, and then darted into the safe, and through the secret passage, exclaiming, " lean escape by the vaults." Volumes of Bmoke now rolled into the chamber, and the boy only returned to a sense of consciousness to perceive that the flames were making their way to this part of the Hall, a dreadful fate appeariug inevitable— viz., to perish in the company of his murdered friend, and a maniac. The boy rushed to the door, but the passages were filled with smoke, and to have proceeded half a dozen yards would have been immediate suffocation. I'll now seize Mrs. Spinks, and endea- vour to shake her into consciousness. " Come, come, missus, wake up; tell us how to get out of this crib, or we shall be burnt to death." Mrs. Spinks, however, uttered not a word, but continued smiling with the vacant grin of an idiot, and then listlessly opened the window and looked out. The boy mistook her action, for he also ran to the window, exclaiming, " Don't jump out, don't jump out; let's try the secret passage." Mrs. Spinks's, act was, however, their joint preservation, for at the moment a cry from the garden shewed they had been noticed A ladder was raised to the window, and the brother of Mrs, Spinks appeared upon it as the smoke and flames entered the apartment. " Come sister, quick, quick," he exclaimed, " or you will perish." To his horror, however, she moved from the window into the room; at, the same time the boy called out— " Don't you know she's mad, sir ? you'll never be able to get her out by the window." ( To be concluded in our next.) then went to the Pig and Whistle ; took the chair. Two young fellows stood heaps of half- and- half and tobacco. Took them to the Harp— borrowed a shilling of the youngest: a quarter of beef and some bread for supper in the street. Went up stairs very quietly at a quarter to five, being afraid of disturbing landlady. TUESDAY.— Listened for Mrs. Koknm going out to market. Took a walk in the park for a musical breakfast, but too late to hear the band. Dropped into the skittle- ground of the Lion; a long cove very green— praised his play; beat him out of three pots of beer, some bread- and- cheese, and flvepence. Met an old actor gave me an order. Visited coffee- shop— gave the girl the order: ham, eggs, and toast for tea—" Couldn't think of taking the money." Went to concert- room. Met the servant- girl at No. 29, and her brother; did the agreeable— nothing to pay— plenty of drink and singing, but no supper. WEDNESDAY.— Washerwoman called for thethree- and- a- penny. Answered her through tbe keyhole— never " pay accounts on a Wednesday." Didn't like to go out before twelve, as I heard Mrs. Kokum was going to Chelsea after dinner. Thought it best to wait till then; and accordingly took my first meal at a soup- shop about three o'clock— total expense, sixpence. Went to the Bel- videre racket- ground— no flats about. Went to the Harp, and played the " Codd'em King" a game— lost every halfpenny. Went home at three, supperless. THURSDAY.— Coffee- shop girl called to thank me for the " joke I had played her— the order was a forgery, and not admitted; she hoped I'd not come to their shop any more." Mrs. Kokum sent to inquire when it was probable I should have any rent for her— declined giving a definite answer. Left my waistcoat at a moneylender's for eighteenpence, and did a steak and onions for breakfast. Met the servant- girl at No. 29; heard she'd money in the savings'- bank— call and see her to- morrow night. Went to the " Sprat and Flat- iron"— sang two songs— landlord delighted— stood some supper— smoke and swankey. Pouring rain— borrowed an umbrella. Heard Mrs. Kokum say as I opened the door, " Four o'clock, and that fellow just come home." FRIDAY.— Got out of doors wonderfully well; left the umbrella for security at a neighbour's, not thinking it safe at Mrs. Kokum's ; he kindly gave me a shilling and his card; forwarded that and the mortgage- deed of my jiwaistcoat, to my grandmother, telling her I had a situation to go to on Monday. Met the washerwoman's girl, a very blackguard female; followed me, and spoke so loud, forced to give her sixpence. Went to see girl at No. 29— all alone, family gone to the play ; tea and srimps; nice girl that; splendid maker of tea, but too modest; showed me a book, 2001, in the Bank; made furious love to her, and offered to marry next week; no go ; wanted to ascertain how much I'd got; I left vastly disappointed, but contrived to borrow half- a crown of her. Went to the Tiger's Leg; tossed a soft- looking man in a white hat for a shilling's worth of gin, and won; double or quits; strange to say, I lost; found I was done, and got laughed at. Upon reaching home, found my latch- key wouldn't act upon the lock; began to suspect the bolt had been put on. Did the agricultural, and strolled about Covent- Garden market till the shops opened, first partaking of a public breakfast beneath the Piazza's; charge, one penny. SATURDAY,-— Mrs. Kokum busy cleaning passage and street- door— tried to shun her—" no go," dropped me a very low curtsey, hoped I had not been inconvenienced— kept out all night— door bolted by accident— wondered what had occurred, two letters for me, one from granny, dear old soul, a sovereign and the tickets, the other a situation at the Customs, £ 200 a- year ; gave Mrs. Kokum ten bob, and showed her the other letter, quite delighted, hoped I was not going out to- morrow, glad of my company to dinner. Called upon Tom Screwfist, heard of my good fortune, just sitting down to dinner ; lamb chops and new potatoes; forced to stop; met Charley Allgrab, showed him my appointment, de- lighted to hear of it, was sure I should want some ready money, and offered to take my bill for £ 20, which he cashed immediately at only thirty per cent., and invited me to dine with him to- mor- row. In the evening got all my garments from the pawnbroker's, quite a swell— went down to the Cyder Cellars, lots of old pals, all so glad to see me, wondered where I'd been— hosts of invita, tions to dinner— don't know which to take first. A SHEET FROM THE DIARY OF A CHA- THAT'S HARD UP. SUNDAY MORNING.— Awoke by the bells ringing for church Looked at the window ; found it raining like blazes. No go for white trousers to- day: devilish lucky— no tin to fetch them from the washerwoman's. Congratulated myself too soon. Knocking at door; small bill thrust under—" Trousers and two fronts, eightpence— bill unsettled, three and a penny." Pretended to be unaccountably fast asleep. Thought of getting up; but no breakfast. Dosed again till 12, then got up to dress ; no soap. Upon opening the door, saluted with a terrific smell of roast pork and stuffing, followed by the delivery of a very minute portion of yellow, and a message that Mrs. Kokum ( the landlady) really must have some money to- morrow— I hoped that I might, also Took a walk. Crowds coming from church and the bakehous Remembered the lines on " Sunday swells and Sunday smells, and thought it a disgrace to the Sabbath, the streets stinking cooked grub like a parish kitchen; ought to be put down. Met grandmother coming out of chapel; not seen her so long, quite de lighted— more so when she asked me home to dinner. First three consecutive meals— dinner, tea, and supper— for two months. Borrowed lialf- a- crown of the old woman to get some postage, stamps and letter- paper, to apply for a situation to- morrow. Changed the half- crown at the " Harp," in Great Russell- street, for a pint and a screw, and got to bed as the clock struck four. MONDAY.— Girl called with trousers and dickeys ; forced pay the eightpence. Mrs. Kokum, waiting at the foot of the stai case: " Heard I had been paying away money, so hoped I had lr some for her." A jolly row. Cup of coffee and two thick slid for breakfast. Chaffed the coffee- shop girl ; promised her an ord for the Surrey— a breakfast in perspective. Strolled into the courts of law;' stopped till four, then walked to London- brid and saw the steam- boats. Feeling hungry, bought a biscuit, and CONFESSIONS OF A PICKPOCKET. The reader left me in the coffee- house watching the stranger who had been robbed of his trousers, and bilked by this woman. As I expected, a precious disturbance was the result, and Mrs. Hilton was forced to come up stairs and send for an officer, as the man declared he would have the house searched. As I imagined might be included in the list, I thought it best to take advantage of the confusion and get away, which I accordingly did, and in a few minutes formed another in the crowd waiting to see the exe- cution. It now wanted but a few minutes of eight o'clock, and the mob had increased to many thousands. I had placed m > elf against one of the barriers'thrown across the road from OldFioftt- lane to keep off the mob, but as I was not sufficiently tall to reacn the wood, I had seated myself upon the two long iron which screwed into the ground and supported the barrier. I .. as now therefore comfortably seated watching some swells who at the first floor of the opposite public- house were amusing them- selves by throwing apples and nuts amongst the crowd, when there was a cry of " Hats off in front," and upon looking round, I saw the clergyman upon the scaffold. The first man brought up was a tall gentlemanly fellow; he looked wildly all around: his face was a blue leaden colour, and when the executioner drew the cap half over his head, I saw the hands move up and down ; I supposed he was praying. Presently I fancied his hands were turning black and his nails blue. I still kept on looking, for the scene was new to me, but now I felt a sense of sickness stealing over me; there was a severe pressure upon my chest and a desire to vomit; at this moment there was a tremendous rush in the crowd, and I slipped from my seat, my back leaning over the iron. I now screamed with fright, for I saw the crowd bearing down upon me in all directions, and had just presence of mind sufficient to un- derstand that my back would snap before the iron bar against which I was being borne. I struggled to get free, but I found it impossible. My senses were fast leaving, the pressure of the crowd upon me being unendurable, and as I heard the bolt drawn and the sound of the scaffold fall ( for I could not see anything), I fainted. When I came to my senses I found myself on a form in the tap- room of the public- house, and some persons bathing my tern- pies with vinegar. I soon, however, recovered, and then ex- pressed a desire to go home, first learning from the people round me that I had been dragged out of the crowd by some coalheavers in an insensible state. As soon as I got into the street I found myself quite well, and I now remembered my appointment with Roberts, and in place of going home, I proceeded to Horsemonger- lane Gaol, where I met with my companion, as already described to the reader in No. 16 of the Town, to which point, after this ap- parently long digression, I will now return. My Mentor in thieving, it will be remembered by the reader, had desired me, at parting, to obtain some money, or at least steal something from home that might be converted into money. I had not told him the events which occurred at my father's, or that I had been out all night, for reasons which I will explain bye and bye. Although I was anxious to comply with his request, as I had never committed a theft before, I felt rather nervous ; in ad- dition to which I was at, a loss how to get into my father's room without being seen, for I knew a most tremendous thrashing was in store for me for having kept out all night. It would almost seem, however, that Old Nick lent me bis assistance, for whilst I ws puzzling my brain how I should sneak up stairs without being seen, one of our regular London November after- dinner flbgs began, and in about half- an- hour the streets were as dark, although but three o'clock, as if it were night. Observing that there was no one at the door of the coffee- house THE TOWN. 3 I crept in and went upstairs to the second floor, first removing my shoes. I shonld here mention that it was ray father's " cus- tom always of an afternoon,'' from three to four, to " do" what lit called a " snooze,'' have a sleep on the sofa to refresh him for the evening, whi'st my mother went out to retail scandal or pick up any gossip about her neighbours. I therefore had specn lated upon quietly getting into the back room unperceived, and then helping myself to anything that might be lying about. To my surprise, however, I heard the voices of my father and mother, and from their conversation could understand that they were quarrelling about me. My mother, I could tell, was crying, and I heard my father upbraid her with having neglected me and set me a bad example. My father declared in return that when he did eaten me he would have me imprisoned. Fearing that he misiht leave the room and discover me, I sneaked down the two flights of stairs, and then into the kitchen ; it was fortunate I did so, for I heard my mother's footsteps upon the stairs. I, therefore, concealed myself in the corncr of the kitchen and waited till my mother, whom I now saw had come to procure some water, was gone. I heard her aive vent to two or three sighs, and I saw her orice or twice wipe her eyes. This was almost too much for me, and I should have spoken to her, but at that instant I heard the voice of my father calling upon her to make haste. For some minutes after she had left, I stood in doubt, undeter- mined how to act, for at this moment all thought of robbing my father or mother had left me; I felt sincerely sorry for my beha- viour, and was on the point of summoning up ootirage to go up- stair* and brave the correction of my father, by Confessing my sorrow for past conduct. Little time, however, was given me to think, for Mary, the girl who served out the tea and coffee in the shop, came down stairs on tip- toe, and whispered, " Joe, Joe, come up stairs, its all right— Joe, don't be a fool, come up stairs at once, its all right; the bedroom door is upon a- jar." I, of course, was very curious to know what this meant; my name was not Joe, or I should have answered, for Polly was a very pretty girl, of 18, but who the deuce, I thought, was Joe?— there's no one else in this kitchen, surely, I imagined. I was not left 1 ng in suspense, for Mary came into the kitchen, and went to the door of the water- closet, and notwithstanding my situation, I could hardly keep from laughing, when I heard her say— " Why, Joe, you nasty beast, you've never surely gone to sleep in there?" There was no answer— but I could hear a noise, which I sup- posed proceeded from Joe, as if of some one snoring. " Joe, Joe, why don't you come up stairs? I've made the bed for yon so nice and comfortable, and you can lay till six or seven o'clock; missus won't be home till then. Well, if you won't come I must leave you here, for there is some one knocking in the shop," and she accordingly tripped up- stairs. I was determined to see who this Joe was, and, accordingly, as lightly as possible, I proceeded to the door, and listening to the sound, could hear very plainly the inhabitant was fast asleep. I accordingly pulled open the door gently, when, judge of my sur- prise at beholding the figure of my old enemy, the cause of my staying out all night, Godwin, the compositor. He was in a state of helpless drunkenness; and I now remembered, for the first time, that his name was Joe, and scandal had rumoured, that when too drunk to go to his home, he was occasionally accommodated with a bed by the servant girl. As I stood looking at him, a strange feeling flashed across my mind, by which I thought I might keep my word with Charley— not rob my parents— and at the same time serve this, my old enemy, out. He was senselessly intoxicated, his trousers hanging in disorder about him ; his watch seals were plainly visible, and without a moment's further thought, I slightly jerked the ribbon, and his watch, a silver hunter, was in my hand. ( To be continued.) THE LAST PINT OF HALF- AND- HALF. Strolling through the back of Whiteehapel, a few evenings since, I was accosted by a respectable- looking plebeian kind of person- age, in cord breeches and jockey boots, who asked me if I knew a house of public resort called " The Tinker's Curse ?" " A strange sign," said I to myself, and yet houses of such a character are the curse, not only of that order of mechanic, but of the labouring millions of my fellow men. I replied, that " I did not know the sign." The stranger appeared much disappointed, and told me " he wished to visit a dying friend." Feeling interested in the per- son, a stranger to me, and on that account having a larger claim upon my sympathies and the benevolence of my better nature, I instantly volunteered to proceed with him in quest of " The Tinker's Curse," and which, after much circumlocution, and threading of alleys, lanes, and streets, we at length found. Here did I leave my anonymous companion; consequently, he must sustain the thread of this narrative in propria personal. Mr. Cogger, for that was the name of the gentleman in the jockey boots, walked into the house, and encountering a boy excessively dirty, with his hair cut as close as a nobleman's lawn, asked him where he could see the boots ? " I'm the boots, sir," said the boy, " but, pr'haps as how you means my successor?" " Predecessor," said Mr. Cogger'; ' I mean poor Sam Head." " Oh, Sam Head," said the boy ; " yes, sir; he's a dying up them ere steps; pr'haps he's gone afore this." " You seem very unconcerned, boy, about the poor fellow, your successor as you call him." " Vy, yes, I ham, sir," said the existing boots, " because as how missus says I arn't to care nothing about Sam." " And why, boy ?" said Mr. Coirger. '' Because, sir, he arn't made up his accounts, and missus says as how he's debarrassed in his circumstances." " Can I see him?" said Mr. C. " Oh, yes, sir; go straight up them steps, but mind Jowler, sir." Mr. Cogger mounted the steps, and avoiding Jowler, entered a loft; on a pallet lay poor Sam ; the apartment contained a quantity of breeding bird- cages and numerous pigeons, the floor was covered with the excrement of these animals; on a deal table was placed a yellow basin with blue stripes, a large leaden spoon, and a box of pills, endorsed " Lamert, senior, Church- street;" the walls were ornamented with a picture of " Eclipse," and " Moses in the Bullrushcs," painted on glass. A blacking bottle and three brashes were placed on a nearly bottomless chair, the emblems of his employ. How different the last moments of a Prince, when the crown and the sceptre, and the gorgeous apparel, rest upon a couch of crimson, in an apart- ment of gold ; or those of a Lord Chancellor, with the great seal npon an inlaid table at the foot of his bed. " How is it with you, Sam?" said Mr. Cogger. " I'm nearly baked, sir," said Sam, " justoff the hooks; two wickets down out o' three, sir; the next innings of this here pain, and I'm bowled out, and no mistake." " Are you comfortable in your mind, Sam?" said Mr. C. " Can't Bay as how I ham, sir; the blacken and that ere half suverin almost choke me." " What's that about, Sam?" " Vy, sir, I have a- been diluting Day and Martin all my life, and swearinlg, just as long a time, as how it came so from the factory ; ony think, sir, of the whack o' lies I have been telling all my blessed born days. As to the half suverin, I took it of Mr. Marriage, sir, instead of a sixpence, but I swore the gentleman only guv me a sixpence; so, as he was a werry religious gentleman, he says to me, says he, emphatic- like, ' One day, Sam, your dishonesty will afflict you, and you will feel it, Sam, a9 the Rev. Mr. Thomas Hood says— " ' Just like a button at your soul, Inscribed with double gilt.' ® Oh, I does feel it, sir, blow me, if I don't." " Can I do anything for you, Sam?" said the benevolent Mr. Cogger. Sam burst into tears, and put out his hand; Mr. C. approached the bed and took it. " Tell me, Sam, what can I, do for you?" Poor Sarh mo- tioned Mr. C. to whisper to him. Mr. C. leant upon the pallet, and bowed his ear to the lips of Sam. Sam raised himself gently up in the bed, and said, in a tremulous voice, " A PlNr OP HALF- AND- HALF, sir, if you please." " You shall have it, Sam," said Mr. C. with emotion. " You're a trump, sir," said Sam, and, drawing one long continuous sigh, fell back, and expired. MEMOIR OF A FRENCH LADY OF FASHION- ( Continued from our last.) Prudence then informed me it was Marguerite who had just left, fearing it would be disagreeable to me to see her. I said I had met her that day, accompanied by a female, and I enquired who the latter was. She said it was Olympia, a very pretty girl; that she was under the protection of no one in particular, and she gave me her address in the rue Trenchet, and asked me if I intended to make love to her. " We know not what may happen," I replied. She then informed me that Marguerite's broker, who had purchased her furniture, had been to her creditors; that the latter were alarmed and intended to have sold in two days. That the Count de N. had provided her with funds to discharge them, and that he had also repurchased her horses and carriages. That she lived in Paris, and that she ( Prudence) had been to Boujival for her things, which she then held. " There is only one small note case," said Prudence, " with your initials, which she wishes to keep, and which she has with her; if you had rather have it, I will ask her for it." " Let her keep it," I faltered out, touched at this mark of affection. If she had catered at that moment, my resolution of vengeance would have disappeared, and I should hive fallen at her feet. Prudence then asked if I would see her; this I refused. " Well, faith ! I did all I could to make her quit you, and I think that, by- and- bye, you will not be angry at my having done so." " On the contrary, I am thankful to you for it," I said, rising, for I felt disgusted at tills woman who took so seriously what I said to her. " Are you going ?" she said. " Yes. I know all I wish to know." " When shall I see you again ?" " Soon— adieu." Prudence accompanied me to the door, and I entered my rooms with tears of rage in my eyes and a thirst for vengeance in my breast. Unfortunately, a base passion governed me, and I only sought for means of torturing this poor creature. Oh! man is very mean and very vile when one of his selfish passions is wounded. I learnt that this Olympia, whom I had seen with Marguerite, was, if not her friend, at least the one who visited her the oftenest since her return to Paris, I also learnt that she was about to give a ball, and as I supposed that Marguerite would be there, I obtained an invitation. When, full of painful emotions, I arrived at the ball, it was already very animated. They danced, they sang too, and in one of the quadrilles I perceived Marguerite dancing with the Count de N , who appeared proud to exhibit her and to say to every one—" This woman is miner' I leant against the mantelpiece, exactly opposite Marguerite, and I regarded ber as she danced. Ere she had scarcely noticed me, she appeared troubled. I saw it, and saluted her coldly with a nod. When I thought that after the ball it would not be with me, but w th this rich imbecile that she would leave; when I fancied to myself what would probably follow their return to her rooms, the blood rushed to my face, and I felt a desire to disturb their loves. After the danee, I paid my respects to the mistress of the house, who displayed to the guests magnificent shoulders, and the moiety of a dazzling bosom. This girl was handsome, and with respect to shape, more stately than Marguerite. The man who should be the lover of this woman might be as proud as M. de N , and she was beautiful to in- spire a passion equal to that Marguerite had inspired in me. I knew that she had no lover at this period, and that it would not be difficult to arrive at this. It required nothing more than to display sufficient gold to be remarked. My resolution was taken. This woman should be my mistress. I began my role as a suitor by dancing with Olympia. Half an hour afterwards, Marguerite, pale as death, put on her shawl and quitted the party. This was already something, but it was not enough. I felt the empire I had over this woman, and I basely abused it. When I think that she is now dead, I ask myself if God will ever pardon me my actions towards this poor creature ? After the supper, which was an uproarious one, we sat down to cards. I seated myself next to Olympia, and staked my money with sucli boldness that she could not help noticing me. In a very short time I had won a hundred and fifty louis, which I displayed before her, and on which the girl fixed her ardent gaze. I continued to win, and lent money to Olympia, who lost all before her, and probably all she had in the bouse. At five o'clock in the morning the guests retired. I had won 300 louis. All the players were assembled below, I alone had re- mained. Olympia herself lighted the staircase, and I was about to descend like the others, when, turning towards her, I said " I must speak with you." " To- morrow," she said, " No ; now." " What have you to say to me ?" " You shall hear," and we re- entered the apartment. " Yon have lost ?" I said to her. " Yes." All you had with you ?" she hesitated. " Be candid." " Well, it's true." " I have won 300 louis, they are your's if you will keep me here." And at the same time I threw the gold on the table. " And why do you propose this to me ?" " Because I love you, by God!" " No, but because you are amorous of Marguerite, and wish to avenge yourself of her by becoming my lover. You cannot deceive a woman like me, my dear friend ; unfortunately I am still too young and too handsome to accept the offer you propose to me." " And you refuse, then ?" " Yes." " Do you prefer loving me for nothing ? If so, it will be my turn to refuse. Reflect, my dear Olympia; had I sent you a third party to pro- pose to you these 300 louis on my part, as the conditions, you would have accepted. I preferred treating directly with you. Accept, without seeking the motive that induce me to act; you say you are handsome, and there is nothing astonishing in my be- coming amorous of you." Such language as this I should never have uttered to Margue- rite, for, although a courtezan, she was of a different mould. I need not inform you that she finished by accepting, and at twelve next day, I left her house her lover ; but that I quitted her bed without carrying away with me the remembrance of the caresses and words of love which this girl thought herself obliged to lavish on me for the 6000 francs I had left her. And yet there were two men who had ruined themselves for this girl! From this day I subjected Marguerite to every persecution and annoyance. I gave my mistress a carriage, and jewels. Igambled, and, in fact, committed every folly. My mistress, also, in orderto please me, insulted Maguerite wherever she met her. The latter gave up her balls and parties ; then followed anonymous letters. Upon one occasion Olympia had encountered Marguerite, who, this time, bad not yielded to the girl who had insulted her, which ended in Olympia being obliged to give up the place, and Mar- guerite'a being carried out fainting. On her return, Olympia recounted what had passed; said Marguerite hadinsulted her, and that I must write to her to respect, whether I was present or not, the woman I loved. I therefore wrote to her, in the bitterest and cruellest words. The blow was too much for the unhappy girl. I fully expected a reply, and accordingly, about two o'clock there was a ring, and Prudence entered. I assumed an indifferent manner, and enquired to what I owed her visit; but Madame Duvernoy was in no jesting humour, aud informed me that rny conduct for the last three weeks and the letter of that morning had driven Marguerite to her bed. To be brief, without making me any reproaches, Marguerite sent to request that I Would cease, for that she had neither the physical nor the moral force to support my conduct. " That Mademoiselle Gautier," said I to Prudence, " should dismiss me, she had a perfect right to do, but that she should in- sult a woman I love, under pretence that this woman is my mistress, is what I will not permit." " My friend," said Prudence, " you are under the influence of a girl who has neither heart nor mind; you are in love with her, it is true, but that is no reason for torturing a woman who cannot defend herself." " Let Mademoiselle Gautier send me her Count de N., and the parly will be equal." " You well know she will not do thus, Armand, leave her alone ; if you saw her, you would be ashamed of the manner in which you treat her. She is pale, she coughs, she will not last ' ong, now." And Prudence offered me her hand, saying, " Come md see her, your visit will make her very happy." " Oh! no; I nave no inclination to meet M. de N—" " M. N— is not with her; she could not support it" " If Marguerite is anxious to see me, she knows where I live, let her come ; but as for me, I will not put a foot in the Rue d'Antin. " And you will receive her kindly?" " In every way T " Well, I am sure she will come: shall you go out to niglit?" " I shall remain within all day " " I will tell her so." I did not even write to Olympia to say that I could not see her. I stood on no sort of ceremony with this girl. I scarcely passed one night a week with her. She consoled herself, I believe, with an actor of some theatre on the Boulevard. I can give no account of the different impressions that agitated me during an hour's suspense, and which, when about nine o'clock I heard the bell ring, reached to such an emotion, that on going to open the door, I was forced to lean against the wall to prevent myself falling. Luckily the ante- room was in a semi- darkness, 80 that the alteration in my features was less visible. I opened the door. Marguerite entered. She was all in black and veiled. Scarcely could I recognize her face beneath her veil. When she entered the room, she lifted her veil. She was pale as marble. " Here I am. Armand," she said, " you wished to see me, and I am come;" and burying her head in her two hands, she burst into tears. I approached her. " What is the matter with you ?" 1 said in a broken voice. She pressed my hand without replying, for her tears still choked her voice; but presently, on recovering herself a little, she said, " You have done me a great wrong, Armaud, I never did you any injury." " None ?" I enquired, with a bitter smile. " Nothing but what circumstances obliged me to do. I am come, Armand," she continued, " because I have two things to demand of you; pardon for what I said yesterday to Mademoiselle Olympia, and grace for what you are prepared, per- haps, to do to me; voluntarily or not, since your return, you have done me so much injury that I am now incapable of supporting half the emotions I have hitherto supported. You will have pity on me, will you notand you will comprehend that for a man of spirit there are nobler things to do than to avenge himself oh a woman, suffering and ill as I am. There, take my hand, I am in a fever. I have left my bed to ask you, not for your friendship, but for your indifference." In fact, I took Marguerite' 8 hand; it was burning, and the poor girl was shivering beneath her velvet mantle. I rolled the fautueil on which she was seated, near the fire. " Think you, then, I did not suffer the night when, after waiting for you in thecountry, I came to seek you in Paris, where I found only this letter, which nearly drove me mad ? How could you deceive me so, Marguerite ? I who loved you so 1" " Speak not of that, Armand, I did not come to speak of it. I wished to see you otherwise than as an enemy, nothing more, and I wished to press your hand once more. You have a mistress, young and handsome, whom you love, they say ; be happy with her and forget me."—" And you, are you happy ?"—" Have I the appearauce of beinga liappy woman, Armand? Do not jest at my grief, you who know better than any one the cause and extent of it."—" It only depended on yourself never to be unhappy."—" No, my friend, circumstances were stronger than my will. I have obeyed, not my instincts of a woman, as you seem to infer, but a serious necessity and reason which you shall one day know, and which will induce you to pardon me."—" Why do you not tell me these reasons now ?"—" Because they will not re- establish a re- conciliation, that is impossible, between us, and because they would separate you, perhaps, from r">": ifri) in whom you ought not to separate."—" Who are tin • fbiis —" I cannot tell you."—" Then you lie."— I had spokon thebe words BO violently that Marguerite, rising, turned towards the door. I could r> 4, witness this mute aud expressive grief without bein ; aU'eci, , when I compared this pale and weeping woman t . mo gay and jesting girl who had laughed at me at the Opera Comique. " You shall not go," I said, placing myself before the door.—" Why ?'— " Because in spite of what you have done to me, I love you still, and will yet have you."—" To dismiss me to- morrow, eh? No, ' tis impossible; our two destinies are distinct, attempt not to unite them; you will despise me, perhaps, whereas now you can but hate me."—" No, Marguerite," I exclaimed, feeling all my lore and all my desires aroused by the conduct of this woman, " no, I will forget all, and we will be happy as we promised ourselves we would be." Marguerite shook her head, in sign of doubt, and said to me, " Am I not your slave, your spaniel ? do with me as you like; take me, I am your's." And taking off her shawl and bonnet, she threw them on the sofa and suddenly began to loosen the corsage of her robe ; for by one of those reactions, so frequent i » her disease, her blood mounted from her heart to her head, and nearly stifled her. A dry and hoarse cough succeeded. " Tell my coachman," she said, " to take back my carriage." I descend- ed myself to dismiss the man. When I returned, Marguerite had stretched herself before the fire and her teeth chattered with the cold. I took her in my arms. I undressed her without her making a movement, and cairied her, like a statue of marble, to my bed. I then seated myself beside her, and endeavoured to warm her with my caresses. She said not a word to me, but she smiled. Oh I this was indeed a strange night. Marguerite's whole life seemed to have passed in the kisses with which she covered me, and I loved her so, that in the midst of the transports of burning love, I asked myself if I should not kill her that she might never be'ong to another. A month of such love as that, and with the body as with the heart, I should be but a corpse. Daylight found us both awake. Marguerite was livid; she spoke not a word ; big tears rolled at moments from her eyes, and rested oh her cheeks, brilliant as diamonds. Her weary arms opened at times to clasp me, and then fell powerless on the bed. For a moment I fancied I could forget what had passed since my departure from Boujival, and I said to Marguerite, " Shall we go away— shall we quit Paris?'' " No. no," she replied, almost with fear, " we shall be too unhappy. I can no longer conduce to your happiness, but as long as a breath remains ill me, t will be the slave of your caprices. Whatever hour of the day or night you wish for tne, come, I will be your's; but do not associate your happiness with mine, you would suffer too much. ' Tis a dream we have made in one of those moments of folly, from which we, unfortunately, awake too soon. For some time I shall still be a pretty girl, profit by it, but do not ask me for more." This woman had evidently the presentiment of her approaching death. When she was gone, I was terrified at the solitude in which she left me. Two hours after her departure, I was still seated on the bed she had so lately quitted, contemplating the pillow which preserved the impression of her form, and asking myself what I should become between my jealousy and my love. At five o'clock, without knowing what I did, I went to the rile d'Antin. It was Nanine who opened to me. " Madame cannot receive you," she said to me with some embarrassment. " Why?" " Because M. the Count de N. is with her, and he has forbidden me to allow any one to enter." " True," I mattered j " I had for- gotten." I returned home like a madman; and can you gues « what I did during the moment of jealous delirium that sufficed for the disgraceful action I was about to commit? Can you guess? I said to myself that this woman was making a jest of me ; I represented her to myself, in her secret tete- d- Me with the Count, repeating the same words she had said to me during the night; and, taking a note for five- hundred francs, I sent it to her with these words: " You left so early this morning, that I forgot to pay you; I send you your price for the night!" and when the letter was gone, I went out as if to avoid the instantaneous remorse of this infamy. I went to Olympia, whom I found trying on some robes, and who, when we were alone, sang me some obscene ballads to amuse me! This girl was completely the type of the courtesan without shime, without heart, and without mind, for me at least, for perhaps some man had made with her the dream I had made with Marguerite. ( To be concluded in bur next) 4 THE TOWN. « \ THAT WILL YOUR WIFE SAY?" A STORY FOB GENTLEMEN. I SHALL never forget tlie first time I heard those words; they were uttered tinder very, very peculiar circumstances; and, although I have no doubt that, at some time or other, every one « f my male readers have had the same remark made to them, lone ever had the question put under similar circumstances— it being the means of getting me a wife. It was early in the Autumn of the year 1847, that, induced partly by business and partly by plearart, I paid a visit to the Isle of Wight. The season was most outrageously warm, and, feeling but little inclined to give myself « p to anything else than uninterrupted enjoyment, I left my gig at Southampton, crossed over by the ferry, and, in the course of a few hours after, found myself comfortably established at Cowcs. Whilst viewing the exquisite scenery of Ryde and its vicinity, I insensibly contracted a close intimacy witli an old gentleman that I met daily on my road, and who seemed t « have come over to the island upon a plan something similar to my own. I had imparted to him my inteition of stopping at • Hotel; and he had agreed on tbe IHE RAILWAY PEOPLE. BY PICKLES MIXED- following day, to meet me, for the purpose of accompanying me there, adding, at the same time, that he should bring with him a companion. Accordingly, on the following day, the old general— for such he turned out to be— appeared at the rendezvous we had appointed, with a feminine form, as graceful as if moulded by Canova, hanging on his arm. " Allow me," said the general, " to introduce to yoa my niece Miss Emily Somers; you will find her, I trust, an agreeable companion." I bowed, Emily curtsied, and we both— yes, I am ashamed to coafess it— we both absolutely blushed. Whilst the chaise was getting ready, I had ample time to sur- vey the fair figure before me. Emily was truly beautiful. It need not create astonishment if, before we arrived at tbe hotel, I was " full fathom five" deep in love. At dinner, I did nothing but confuse the termB of the dishes, aud the dessert was crowned with a faux- pas which I made by blending most deliberately the old general's port with my own sherry, when asked to take wine. But, notwithstanding all these little disagremens, the dinner, on the whole, went off pleasantly enough; and, proposing a walk round the cliffs to Miss Somers, we left the old gentleman in the enjoyment oi his favourite beverage and his customary post- prandial forty winks. The conversation that, in the meantime, I had with his niece, only served to interest me more. She was accomplished, beautiful, and, above all, an heiress. The latter circumstance, however, only appeared to throw greater obstacles in the way of our union, which, as I imagined, influenced by the dream of fancy in which I had indulged, would be the result of eur interview. As it is an incontrovertible fact in the history of mankind that even lovers must eat, tea and supper followed ordinary course; and, seeing that the general and myself were resolved upon carousing " pottle deep," Emily gracefully curtsied a " good night," and withdrew to her room. A regret that so fair a creature should sleep alone 011 that night, was, I believe, the principal feeling that then predominated; and whether it was owing to the heat of the weather or no, I am not certain, but somehow or other I could not resist wishing to be her companion for the night— she had been mine during the day. Wishing to drown the recollections of that beauty that could not be mine by the fumes of liquor, I drank plentifully of brandy- and- water, and ere the social uncle and myself rose, it was verging clo.- e upon midnight. Having desired the chambermaid to escort me to my room, I was ushered along a most extensive corridor, until terminated by a door at its extremity, indexed with the magical figure seven. The chambermaid was one of these insi- nuating little devils, that seemed placed in such a position for no other purpose than leading us poor sinners astray. Attributing my amatory propensities to the potent influence of the cogniac, I looked around the corridor to see that no one else was in sight, and, at the same moment, flung my arms round her neck and imprinted a violent, smack. The nymph of the candlestick seemed to be most wonderfully astonished, and ejaculating, " Oh ! fie, sir, don't; what will your wife say ?" left me. Now, this last remark did surprise me. So conscious was I of my single state of blessedness, I never dreamed of any one— a woman especially— would set me down for a married man ; but, conjecturing that she bad believed me to be the husband of the fair creature she had'seen me with during the day, I gave up the trouble of assigning for it, and entered my room. The sudden gust of wind, on opening the door, extinguished the candle; so, therefore, double- locking the former, I groped my way to the toilette table, and there proceeded to undress. The little light that passed through the blind enabled me to discern a most ex- emplary four- post bedstead, with clean white dimity curtains drawn close around. Seating myself here, upon the edge, I emancipated my legs from the thraldrom of a somewhat tight pair of breeches, and, sending my right arm on a voyage of discovery beneath the bed, upon an errand that need not be named, it came in contact with a pair of lace- up shepherd's plaid boots, that were incontestably feminine, and which, from the size and shape, I at once set down to be Emily's, considering she might have placed them there upon her arrival. I apostrophised them in a speech, at all events al- lowable for a lover under the influence of brandy- and- water, and, smothering them with fervent kisses, I replaced them iu their old position. I now withdrew the curtains and got into bed ; stretching down my limbs horizontally, and also diagonally, I first became cogni- zant of the existence of a bed- fellow, I ascertained, from a stray movement over the breast, to be feminine. Astounded at the circumstance, I elevated myself upon my head's antipodes, and glanced around. Here was, indeed, " con- firmation strong" of a lady having appropriated this domicile to herself. Stays, petticoats, and a chemise lay strewn " in sweet comparison," upon a chair by the bed- side, and casting my eyes once more upon the form in parallel lines with myself, I found her to be none other than Emily Somers. Here was a trial for St. Anthony to resist— flesh and blood could not stand it. " Ye prudes in virtue say— Say, ye severest, what would ye have done ?" And what did I ? why, wrestling with the spirit within mo, I made myself comfortable at her side, not wishing to disturb the household at such an unreasonable hour. Relapsing into a state of dreamy felicity, I threw my leg accidently ( upon my word, only accidentally) upon her own exquisitely carved foot. Send- ing my arm, with a kind of windmill motion, to fetch it back again; it met with so pleasant a companion, that I was loath to bring it away, and the result was, that about nine months after- wards, Emily Somers became my wife, with an income of two- thousand a year. The scruples of the General were overcome by the presentation of a little birth- day present; and, by a singular coincidence, Emily has been blessed with seven children, being a realization of the number on the door which first introduced me to her. The chambermaid confessed that, believing we were man and wife, she had placed us in the same room; A douceur, of course, prevented the circumstance being generally known, although it continues to be the topic of conversation at the hotel until the present day. BOWLING ALLEYS.— These places of amusement are becoming all the rage in London. The one in the Strand is gaining vast popularity. Since the falling- off of trade in Catherine- street, Brydges- street, and at the wine- rooms in the neighbourhood of the theatres, there is some talk of Mrs. Levi and a few of the Exeter- street maidens taking H.' s for an affair of the kind. The " New City Barge," " Black Jenny," and " Lady Mansfield," are also negociat- ing for the Elysium. No doubt tho thing would take— a female bowling - alley being a novelty. THE MODEL FIRST- CLASS PASSENGER. You can tell him at once, even if you bad not the pleasure of knowing him personally, by his being such a sugar spoken, clean- shaved, even- tempered sort of person. In dress he generally does the extreme quiet- He is deciedlv unparliamentary, and prefers the express to the penny- a- miles, which he designates as the cheap and nasty train, " Paddy's Special," " the Irish mail," & e. He pays his first- class fare and obtains bis first- class ticket immediately the juve- nile shutters in the partition in the booking office is thrown open, which is the only correct card, without the list of the horses and color of the riders. He enquires of a common porter ( who^ he can perceive at a glance is not an unlettered person), what time the quarter before 12 o'clock train starts ; he is answered 11.45, and he rails in consequence, about the time for the departure of tlic trains being so constantly altered 1! He is a vast deal too particular about seeing his luggage safely stowed awav, and after being frightfully fussy, over- sees it very care- fully ( all imagination) placed in the Guard Break Van. He slyly slips a " twelver" in the porter's hand, who has got a head and re- ceives it on the quiet, although it is distinctly understood that no gratuities are allowed to be taken by the Company's servants on pain of instant dismissal ( place a loaf of bread by the side of a hungry man and bid him notto eat). He purchases " To- day's Times," and a " Bradshaw,'* prior to his taking his first- class seat. If it is cold weather he envelopes his understandings in a plaid woollep wrapper, and his top piece ia a cap called a travelling one. The station master gives the signal; the bell is rung; the engine sounds her whistle as if it wanted cleaning, and " on they goes to Purkey." He is pleasant and chatty to his fellow passengers, and should there happen to be an interesting female specimen of suffering hu- manity amongst them, he is brimful of peculiar little funiments and capriositics. " Had she not better sit with her back to the engine ( next to him) she would feel the draft and catch the dust less, and would ride a great deal more comfortable. She must not be frightened, when proceeding through the tunnels— it is dark, to be sure, but, in reality, there is nothing to be alarmed at." He is glad to find it has turned out such a lovely day, or he is sorry weather is not more propitious. He " swops" away his news- paper for the Chronicle, on arriving at the principal station, by giving two- pence in addition to the literary biped, who vends the periodicals there, and has not waded through half the leadine articles in it ere he drops off to sleep and dreams he is in California doing a hard dav's digging, amidst heaps of the precious metal, and on awakening, instead of a lump of gold in his hand, he finds he has got the cramps in his legs- After twisting and turning, first to one side and then the other, almost as much as Lord Brougham, he slumbers a seond time, until the Asiatic cholera suddenly takes possession of his powerful mind, when he is aroused suddenly with " stop ten minutes here, sir, for refreshments," under the painful impression that it is an urgent case of diarrhoea with him, and he rushes up to the counter of the Refreshment Room in an excited state, and troubles one of the waitresses for " a glass of Brandy, immediately, please-" Sometimes the model first- class passenger partakes of a glass ot sherry and n biscuit; at others, a cup of coffee and a thin slice ot bread and butter ; now and then a basin of soup, and occasionally he does a pint bottle of stout and a sausage- roll. He treats the guard to whatever he likes to take to drink, and at the same time tires his patience out with numerous inquiries about his luggage - 1, ... i „. n„, n nSfh " . Tiimn in. nlease NOTICE. Our readers who may find any difficulty in procuring TUB TOWN from their booksellers, are requested to forward to ourpubliaha the names ot the persons refusing to supplv them, as we are making arrangements for the appointment of Agents. We shall also be bappv to receive the names ef Agents; the uncer- tainties of tbe publishing trade not being iuvolred in the sale of THE TOWN— all back stock being exchanged, or the money returned. Jioltccs to ffiouTspontonte. LIONEL.— The book is not by the party you allude to. Whsra are wo to see you, or how to know yout The house you mention is not, we think, at Hornsey, but Holloway, and is kept by old Mother Brigges, a Glasgw Jewess. She has four girls there, and they are all her relations. LADT ADMIRER ( Ashton- under- Lyric).— You are too clever, my dear child. In giving your advice to Eliza M—, our fair correspondent of No. 24, what, in the name of virtue, do yoa mean by saying, " I know that iT I had a wife, I should work very hard, both day and night, to please her V You have either forgotten the sex you belong to, or tried to persHade yourself yeu are a man. If you doubt us, we will show you your letter. RATHER A PARTICULAR CHAP ( Newcastle).— Stamp one penny, beside ( lie price or each number. STONE'S END, BOROUOH.— We bear the doctor has given your friend at Clapham much satisfaction; but, knowing him to be o gentleman, we are not surprised at his liberality. With regard to your specdv re- covery, Doctor Walton guarantees the cure of the sufferings of love within • no week, if applied to immediately the contagion is discovered. The doctor may be eonsulted by all persons, gratuitously, at his medical studio, 55, Great Queen- street, Lincoln's inn- fields. SWITCHTAIL ( St. John's- wood).— What a fellow you are for the birch- tree. PIPE AWAY.— HOW can you " make a bad shilling,?" " Mrs. Bumble, you're are an ass." ROBERT D'ESTOE ( Liverpool).—" We are much obliged to you. BUCKINGHAM ( Camberwell).— Four parts will make a volume. A SUBSCRIBER ( Winton).— Write to the Secretary of tbe Magdalen Hospital, Blackfriars- road, London, and he will give yon every information. GASPARD BRUNIDO ( Dublin).— We should have no objection to pay the tall value, if the articles are worth it, and reduced to half the siz.\ Send a specimen. W. 1. D. O. ( Oxford.)— You will And a letter, explaining every thing, at the place you name on Tuesday. Life in a Lodging House" will be con- tinued next week. JANE ANDERSON ( Landsdowne- torrace, Glasgow).— Is a witty personage. " No- Go" ( Rochdale).—" We hare carefully perused your letter, and more blackguard or infamous treatment we never heard of; send us, however, the letter you received, and we will cause justice to be done to you. If you want anything of the kind in future, write to Hicks, whose advertise- ment appears in our columns: he may be depended upon. NIGHTCAP ( Liverpool).— You may rest assured we shall uso it; but send the conclusion next post. The Racket- players at the Belvidere must stand over. Other Correspondents, next week. s being all'right, who at last cuts him short with " Jump in, please Sir, time's up, v. shall start directly''— hurries him to his seat, and slams to, and fastens the door upon him in the most artistic manner. There is a little preliminary performance in the shape of n small por- tion of coughing, wheezing, and panting on the part of the engine, with a not verv pleasing whistling accompaniment, and " on they goes again to Turkey." The model first- class passenger consumes the remaining part of the journey between arranging his cravat, putting his legs through a variety of postures, looking out of the car- riage window, and indulging, as a matter of course, in a little grumbling relative to the s| ow rate at which they are travelling fonly sixty miles per hour), and on arriving at his destination joyfully alights to find that he has no sooner placed his one pound one shil- ling Wellington's ( readv money) on the platform, than tbe train has " hooked" it, taking his'luggage forward, a change of guards having taken place at the Junction, fully accounting for the milk in the cocoa- nut. So much for all his trouble, anxiety, and expence ; and on bitterly complaining to the station clerk of the carelessness and neglect he has been subjected to, is strongly advised never to travel again without a nurse, or, at all events, some person competent to take charge of him and his luggage. SAYINGS OF THE STREETS. ECRETS FOR YOUNG MEN, OLD MEN, SINGLE MEN, MARRIED MEN. Price Gd.; post free, eight Stamps. An invaluable little work, giving rules by which all diseases can be cured without medical aid. " This is a useful little book, and should be possessed by every English man."— Public Press. EIGHT SPICY PLATES, a Ia Francaise, One Shilling, post- paid. SPICE NUTS, a charming collection of delicious pictures, lor Bachelors* paities, Is. post- paid. LESSONS FOR LOVERS, onV 3s., post free; originally published at I0s. 6d. COAL- HOLE SONGSTERS, Is. each, post free. Also, The SECRETS OF NATURE Revealed, 2s. post free. THE SWELL'S NIGHT GUIDE through London, Edited by the Lord Chief Baron, 3s. 6d. post free. AMOURS OF LORD BYRON, 4s. 6d. post free. HARRIETT WILSON, 5s. 6d. post free. ARISTOTLE'S CELEBRATED MASTER- PIECE, 3s. 6d.. TAIL PIECES, Eight racy plates, it la Francaise, Is., and Waggeries, four coloured plates from the French, Is. post free. MYSTERIES OF VENUS, or Lessons of Love, five plates, 4s. 6d. post free. WOMAN of PLEASURE, coloured plates. 5 « . 6d., post free. One copy of the original edition of HARRIETT WILSON, published by Stockdale, 4 vols, in 2, half calf, two guineas. UN PACQUET POUR LES MESSIEURS, to prevent something mora than Cholera, containing Twenty Four Letters, enclosed in a neat packet a la Francais. Prepare par M. G. La Mert; per post direct, 10s. 6d. THE SILENT FRIEND, Twenty- six coloured Plates, post free, 3s. PHYSIOLOGY OF MAN, coloured Plates, post free, 3s. GENESOLOGY OF WOMEN, Sixty- three coloured Engravings, post free, 5s. MEMOIRS OF MISS F H , coloured plates, post free, 5s. ( id. T. Hicks, 34, Holywell- street, Strand. " What, modest Martha, I'm ashamed of you!" " Sayings of the streets!" Proverbs of the poor, metaphors of the miserable, what a chapter might be written upon the subject, had we of the TOWN time sufficient. Often have we reflected upon the ingenuity displayed in the construction of some of the sentences, especially those of an interrogatory character, and how much at fault is even the most conversant with the idioms of the English language when thrown into the company of one who delights in the use of street slangology. The sayings of the streets may be divided into two orders, the interrogative and the positive, as " Does your mother know your out ?" and, " I don't think much of you 1" Then their simplicity; the treasury of language might be ransacked o'er and o'er, ' ere a mere elegant, at the same time simple, metaphor could not be found than " How are you off for soap"— it is the alle- gory of cleanliness, Rsthc answer, " You look blooming this morn- ing, my tulip," is the language of flowers. In passing through the streets of the metropolis, when night has thrown her shadow upon the earth, how often have we been solicited to deviate from our course, and investigate the peculiar construction of a new bedstead, the aforesaid " new bedstead" being localised at the home of the fair requisitionist. Have not our readers been frequently asked, at midnight particularly, if they are " good natured?" and a test applied by another inquiry, to the effect, if they " have such a thing as a small sixpence about them." We can fancy the surprise of a coun- tryman first entering London, although in blissful ignorance of the business of a marine store- shop, being told he " knows the price of old rags"— or athearing a promiscuous female acquaintance announce she can " drink gin like old boots." Some of the street sayings are very ambiguous, such as " What's o'clock by the roof of your hat?" Have you seen the Prince?" " Do you know Balls, the bladder- blower ?" and " Cut your hair and sell it." For many years there was a street saying of the interrogative order, very common, viz., " Vich is the Vey to Vestminster." The one, how- ever, most rife in London at the present moment is, " How about the nine yards of flannel, Jane," ( or, Joe, as the case may be) an ob- servation quite as expressive as the ancient ones, " How fat you get," or, " There you go with your eye out." Our artist has, this week, sketched a scene highly illustrative of midnight metropolitan mot ality. Some very questionable application has been made by the young lady to the gentleman with the cigar, and he expresses his astonishmentby exclaiming, " What, modest Martha, I'm ashamed of you I" for the explanation of which query, we must efer our readers to No. 26. En passant, some street saying, have a very singular origin. The old observation, " Up to snuff," arose from a very diffident young lady, who, some years since, promenaded Fleet- street for business purposes, being in the habit of presenting a very curious shaped snuff- box to gentlemen and asking them to try her Prince's mixture, and the result was, in nine cases out of thirteen, that the snuff recipient was called upon to lend the lady a " little shilling." In time, the young creature got known, and her former friends met her with the answer that they were " up to snuff," but her box took " a piach over.'' GRATIS! GRATIS!! GRATIS!!! " VfOW PUBLISHING, in Penny Weekly Numbers, PAUL JONES, THE l\ PIRATE, a Tale of the Sea, by PIERCE EGAN, Author of " Robin Hood," " Wat Tyler," " Adam Bell," & c. With No. 1 is presented No. 2, gratis, in a neat wrapper. Also, uniform with the above, THE LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF JACK SHEPPARD, THE HOUSEBREAKER, in Penny Numbers, splendidly Illustrated. With No. 1 is presented No. 2, grati. i, in a neat wrapper. London • O. PURKESS, Compton Street, Soho aud all Booksellers in Town and Country. IEGENDS OF SCOTTISH SUPERSTITION— Being a Complete His- j tory of the Marvellous Transactions of the Middle Ages. Modern scep- tics who doubt the existence of witches are warned to read the well- authen- ticated recitals of this work. THE SONGS OF SCOTLAND— All collected into one little volume, price two- pence. No one who loves his country should be without this pocket companion. Complete for one penny, THE HORRORS OF EMIGRATION 1 or, the Miseries, Privations, and Dangers Endured in a Strange Country ; Murders and Robberies by the Natives! Fearful Shipwrecks from Rotten Ships, icc., & c. Exposure of Agents who will get you Transported to the Land of Disease and Swarms of Vermin ! A Shilling's Worth for a Penny. CUPID'S SECRET GUIDE to the Pretty Women and Handsome Young Men, their Fortumes, & c., One Penny. THE BOYS' OWN ILLUSTRATED HANDBOOK OF ANGLING, em- bellished by Fourteen Engravings; as much information as in a halt- guinea work. One Penny. A KEY to the Extraordinary and Mysterious Halo that hovers over th « singular stand taken by the Honourable and Reverend Baptist Noel- being a review of the leading points of his truly valuable and highly in- structing Work, called " An Essay on Church and State." THE LADIES' BEST FRIEND,— Containing Secrets « f Importance to Females of every rank and station, and in all situations of life. Those who study real eco- nomy may save a large sum of money, and also add con- siderably to the comforts of home. Numerous useful and approved Re- ceipts of the utmost consequence to females, whether Maids, Wives, or Widows, and the practice of which will quickly prove the folly of emigrating when you can save gold at home, One Penny. AN ABSTRACT of the PAWNBROKERS' ACT, with an Interest Table, showing the amount payable upon pledges for One Shilling and upwards, from one to twelve months, One Penny. THE PENNY DOMESTIC COOKERY BOOK. THE BALL- ROOM MANUAL; being a complete Multum in Parvo Compendium of the Art of Dancing. Twopence. Kaffle papers one penny each. This is a most useful invention, for one penny, every thing complete ; a saving of Two Hours' Work. SECRETS OF FREEMASONRY ; a Manual of the Three Degrees, with I introductory Key- stone to the Royal Arch. Cloth gilt, price 6s., post free. AMERICAN BROAD GRINS; containing all the most recent humour and wit of our transatlantic brethren. Price Sixpence, post paid. THE ENCHANTED NIGHTS; or, the Chronicle of the Threo Sisters— a German romance. Price Sixpence, post paid. The whole of the above works to be had of W, WINN, Holywell- street, Strand, Loudon, and of all Booksellers. ** The " Times" sent, perpost, on the day of publication, for £ 1 2s. Od. per quarter. All other London papers at the lowest possible prices. IMPORTANT CAUTION.— Travellers should be careful to de- liver their baggage to proper persons, as a gentleman, a few days since, on alighting from the Bristol terminus, intrusted his wife to a stranger, and she has not been heard of since. A Yankee and a Patlander passing a gibbet, the former in- quired of the latter " where lie would be if the gallows' had its due?" " Where would I be," answered Pat, " oh," by dad, then I should be travelling this road alone." PHILOSOPHY- EXPERIMENTAL.— A printer endeavouring to borrow a dollar on Friday, to refresh himself after a week's " mop.' NATURAL.— Being refused. PRIVATE, IMPORTANT, AND PRACTICAL HINT& On all Secret Diseases, Generative Weakness, Nervous Debility, Jtc., with plain directions for cure, Price* 6d.; post free, 8d. By H. WALTON, M. R. Q. S., See., to be had only at his Pathological Studie, No. 55, Great Queen- street, Lincoln's- inn- fields; established 1830, where the Doctor may be consulted daily with the greatest confidence, and without a fee, from 8 in the morning till 10 at night ( Sundays included). Dr. Walton's Alterative Specific Pills, 2s. 6d., and 4s. 6d. per box; ( prepared entirely from Exotic herbs). The Restorative Indian Elixir, a sure and speedy remedy for Seminal Weakness, & c., 7s. 6d., and 21s., per bottle. Medicines sent daily to all parts carefully packed, and secrecy observed. All letters promptly answered if enclosing one stamp. Entrances free from observation,— either ol the three doors in the Archway. N. B.— Gonorrhtea perfectly cured within a week. Medicines sent to all parts " sub- rota." Printed and published for the Proprietor Strand, where all communications are to b. by W. WINN, Holywell- streets idressed,